They say there is an invisible string that connects people throughout their lives— a quiet tether, pulling one soul toward another through a series of moments where, no matter the choices made, the ending remains unchanged: a coupling. In March of 2020, the world went quiet. Doors closed. Streets emptied. We were separated from touch, from rooms filled with voices, from the rituals of gathering. Some of us turned inward, while others turned to glowing screens, trying to keep community breathing—line by line, pixel by pixel. Neither of us could have imagined where that community would carry us. And yet, “on a hot summer street, he rolled from the shadows with a voicebox filled with conviction,” and something in me recognized him before my mind could catch up. I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but one look at this man “drenched in the perfect complexion” was enough to spark something undeniable. After that, we kept finding each other the way poets do— in borrowed rooms, under dim lights, waiting our turn at open mics. We listened. We performed. We returned. Night after night, verse after verse, learning each other between applause and silence. Like any love worth writing about, our story held its pauses and revisions. There were moments that asked us to adapt, to shed what no longer served us. And still, the string held. It guided us back, gently, insistently, until all it took was one kiss for us to “never stop kissing.” Now, after all the open mics and unfinished drafts, we are writing the most important verse yet— the one where two voices become one. The one where the poem stops being solitary and starts being shared. This is a collaborative piece. This is the beginning of us. We are so grateful you're here to witness it.